Greener Pastures - Alyssa Brugman [12]
Lee didn't answer.
'I mean, that's a normal part of horse care,' Shelby continued. 'You should get it done at least every six weeks. And worming too. Have you wormed him?'
'We did that,' Lydia said.
'Maybe he's had an allergic reaction to it?' Erin handed the reins back to Lydia. The two girls watched as she unsaddled the horse and let him loose.
Chance limped towards the other two ponies with his head low.
'He's so not normal,' Erin said.
Lee was frowning at them, so Shelby tugged at Erin's sleeve. They made their way out to the road where they mounted and set off towards home. The colour was draining out of the day. They would need to move quickly. Shelby didn't want to be riding along the main road in the failing light.
'What do you think we should do?' Erin asked.
'I don't think there's much we can do,' Shelby said. 'We've told them what we think.'
Erin commented, 'There wasn't much feed in that paddock. He was in good shape considering.'
The streetlights flickered on above their heads.
'Come on. We have to hurry,' Shelby said.
The two girls pushed their horses into a brisk trot. Blue and Bandit stretched out their legs, ears forward, eager to get home to their dinner.
6 Chicken
When they reached the stables it was dark. Most of the clients were gone. Erin's mum was waiting in the car park reading a newspaper. The two girls unsaddled their horses and slipped on their heavy rugs. Already the dew was settling. Shelby's knuckles were cold as she fastened the buckles and straps. Her nose started to drip.
After Shelby waved goodbye to Erin and her mum, she noticed that there was a light on in one of the tack rooms. She went to investigate and found Hayley and Mrs Crook inside eating KFC. Shelby was hungry and was captivated by the smell of it. Hayley noticed her eyeing a drumstick and offered it to her.
Shelby's family hardly ever had take-away, and when they did it was never brand name take-away, it was fish and chips from the corner shop, or a supermarket barbecue chicken. You never gave up a drumstick, there simply weren't any to spare.
'Are you sure?'
'I'm not going to eat it,' Hayley assured her.
Shelby took the drumstick. It was oily, salty and delicious, just as she had imagined. She looked around the tack room while she ate.
The Crooks had a stack of hay bales in one corner. There were pegs on the wall with saddles in covers and bridles in bags. They kept their feed in airtight plastic tubs, rather than the steel drums that everybody else used. There was a shelf above with all different kinds of feed supplements, lotions and potions, and next to that a kettle and some coffee cups stacked upside down.
The Crooks had a bar fridge in the corner, and a wardrobe too, which was new. The door was open and Shelby could see jodhpurs in a variety of colours, a safety vest and a number of helmets in a higgledypiggledy stack.
Above the wardrobe there was a faded picture in a frame of Hayley about five years old, astride a chubby black Shetland pony. Mrs Crook was standing next to them clutching a trophy.
'So, how are things with Chad Hammond?' Mrs Crook asked as she selected another piece from the bucket.
'Fine,' Shelby replied, blushing. She had enough trouble talking about Chad with friends, let alone a grown-up.
'You hang on to him!' Mrs Crook advised, pointing at her with a chicken wing. 'He's one of the good ones.'
'We're not even really properly going out or anything,' Shelby mumbled.
Hayley's eyes widened. She ran her sliver of chicken in front of her neck, a slicing motion, silently telling Shelby to be quiet.
'I saw that, young lady,' Mrs Crook said.
Hayley sighed, exasperated. 'You always stick your nose into everybody's business, Mum.'
'It's called making conversation. It's showing an interest in someone other than yourself. Shelby doesn't mind, do you? Shelby likes talking to me.'
Shelby chewed on her drumstick and stared out of the tack room door, embarrassed about being drawn in to one of the Crook's inevitable family arguments. She watched as a car's